The Pontiac Grand Prix lurched forward.
Phil’s hands shot from his head to the door and the compartment between the seats. What fingernails he had dug into the car. The chain link fence quickly bent, and then gave way as the car rolled onward.
Mokoto slowly turned her head towards the noise.
Bob held on to the wheel like it was the only thing in the world. He could hear the chain link scraping on his paint and dragging across the glass like tiny forks on a big plate. Phil’s mouth fell agape, equal parts wanting to yell his lungs out and wanting to inhale as much oxygen as he could before death. The car rolled forward, barely in control, and then it briefly sailed off the curb. The front tires landed on the street as the car’s chassis groaned with the strain of the short drop.
Mokoto turned her body towards the unfolding scene on the street. She was holding the phone at her side.
An oncoming SUV slammed on the brakes, and skidded to an abrupt stop. A pickup coming from the other direction swerved to the side of the road, hopping the curb and laying on the horn. Bob cranked the wheel to the left without letting off the gas. His car leaned to the right as it sharply switched directions. The Pontiac’s engine revved loudly, then calmed as the transmission caught up to Bob’s acceleration.
Mokoto closed her phone. She smiled, as she started putting on her helmet. It took you long enough boys. Now I won’t feel so bad since you’re running.
Bob looked as soon as he got to an intersection. Without much traffic in sight, Bob cranked the wheel to the right and skipped the stop sign. “Don’t worry, I’ll stop twice at the next one” Bob said, doing his best Cheech Marin accent. Phil slowly started letting go of the sides of the car, and he straightened up in his seat. He swallowed, and took a deep breath.
“ARE YOU CRAZY!? There’s a woman with a gun less than a yard from us, and you just drive off like nothing happened? She’s gonna find us, and then we’re dead!”
“Geez dude, relax” Bob said, as he took an abrupt left turn, again ignoring the stop sign. “This isn’t some action film. We’re getting out of here, and we’re going to the police.”
“Running stop signs is a good way to get the police’s attention. How are we going to explain the dead officer?”
“We’ll just have to tell the truth. Honesty is the best policy right?”
“There’s a new concept for your social life.”
“See, now you’re relaxing. We’ll be out of this mess in no time.” Bob came to anther stop, and then took a right onto 41st. The traffic was it’s usual Friday night free for all. Bob took his first opening and pulled into the left lane. He took a deep breath. “So, how about Taco Johns? I could go for a Super Burrito.”
Phil looked out the window and shook his head. He couldn’t believe Bob was asking about food. He happened to look in the passenger side mirror, and he saw a black motorcycle about four cars back.
The rider waved a black gloved hand, and then reached into her jacket.
